Waiting on an Enemy
by OnigiriReject
Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his? Original WOAE in all its glory from 2011. Rewriting into Elysian Fields which is a lot darker. Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.
1. Angelic Death

Chapter One: Angelic Death

My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm a junior attending South Park High, and am currently wearing three-inch heels and a short black poofy dress with ribbons in my hair.

A lot has happened in my life. I've almost been killed multiple times, and have two best friends- Stan and Kenny. They're always there for me, so I haven't gotten killed. Most of my near death experiences happen because of the asshole now sitting at my table.

Why the hell… did this have to happen? I stare down at my worst enemy seated at the table. A wide smile was spread across Cartman's face as he eyed me like I was a plump mouse- and Cartman was the cat.

Let me back up a bit.

It started earlier this year, back in January. It started with a stupid teapot my mom had- it was white with little pink flowers etched on it. It sat on our dining room table. One day, I came home from school and saw it.

I threw it across the room and it hit the wall, smashing into a million little pieces. I was alone in the house, so no one heard it, but at that moment during it's impact, something inside of me snapped.

I wanted my freedom. Sophomore through junior year- my mom had been pushing me to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I studied so much that I thought my eyes were going to pop out. She wouldn't let me see my friends. I know she was doing it for my benefit, but to the extent that she took it, I literally had no life outside of my books. I became so obsessed with getting into a good college that I literally had nightmares where I didn't get into Harvard or Princeton or Yale, and I would wake up sweating.

My whole life became about my future. The guys would ask me to go play football a few times, but I always turned them down. Luckily, my mom let me see Stan sometimes, as long as it was a 'study session'. We're still best friends, but I get the feeling he got bored with me. During that time I was so oblivious to him that I failed to notice he began to go out with Wendy again.

In my family, I'm more of my mom's kid. Ike is my dad's. Ike liked more sports, I liked more books. It just came out that way, so of course, being the older and more mature child anyway, they expected me to be the one to excel and get the best grades and into the best school. All I did was study as soon as I got home from school.

The day I threw the teapot, I got my SAT scores back. A 2310. 90 points below perfect.

And then, I snapped. Tea dripped unceremoniously down the wallpaper. Of course, by the time Mom returned home, I had cleaned it up, but the mere act of doing something so rude and selfish really, well, _liberated_ me. I felt free for the first time in forever.

At that moment, I decided that once I was out of high school, I would live on my own. I didn't want to have to depend on my family for financial reasons or personal. I wanted to live my own life, and not just be a siphon for my mom's dashed hopes and dreams.

Don't get me wrong- I love my family. But, they are genuinely unhealthy for my sanity and wellbeing. The first thing I had to do to be able to get my plan working, was to save up money. Lots of it.

Therefore, I needed a job. Badly. No one was really hiring. Obviously, I couldn't let my family, who I was saving up to escape from, find out about my job, so I couldn't very well have asked them for help.

Then one day, I overheard some of the guys talking about this restaurant.

"Dudes, you have to check this place out!" Clyde said triumphantly in homeroom, pulling a flyer out of his backpack. At the time, I was barely interested in anything those idiots had to say, I was too preoccupied with my own stuff. But, I just so happened to be listening.

Stan was sitting with Wendy on his lap, looking as happy as a puppy dog with a treat. She was smiling at him and being all perfect, as usual. Kenny and Butters were there too, talking to Token about something. The fat-ass was sitting in front of me, his head down. He was acting annoyed about something so I just didn't bother even insulting him that morning.

Anyway, Clyde came in and was talking about this great restaurant called "Angel Morte."

"Doesn't that mean 'Angel Death'?" I piped in, looking up from my copy of Crime and Punishment. 

"Yeah- and it really is what it says. Death by angels," Clyde smiled stupidly to himself and held the flyer out for everyone to see. "It's right near Stark's pond on the edge of town, just opened up too. The only people that work there are cute girls- they're hiring now too because it's new. They wear these short waitress dresses that are either white or black-

"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time there," Wendy added in, smiling at Clyde's embarrassment.

"You're just jealous you could never work there, Wendy, they're only looking for cute girls," he replied back smoothly.

My heart sank. Truly- I'd been looking for a job for a few months at that point. I was desperate. Even desperate enough to…

"Can I ask your name, young lady?" the manager of the restaurant looked me up and down and smiled. I couldn't have been more embarrassed if I wanted to be.

I was wearing a dress my mom had long since abandoned since she gained one hundred pounds after I was born. It was pink and frilly. I know it was completely dumb to assume that he wouldn't know I was a boy, but for years, Eric Cartman would remark how feminine and gay I looked, so I just prayed for once that he was right and I could really pass it off.

As another precaution, I wasn't wearing my hat, which I constantly wore at school. My hair had gotten long enough that my red curls drooped to my shoulders. I was slim enough that I had next to no body muscle, and my legs looked long and slender, almost exactly like a girl's legs. Genuinely, even I have to admit I really did look like a girl. A girl wearing very dirty tennis shoes with a pink frilly dress, but a girl nonetheless. Dressing up Butters as Marjorine years ago finally paid off.

"Kyl-" I began, then realizing how dumb it would be to use my real name, I quickly added in a higher pitched version of my voice, "lie. Kylie."

The manager nodded and looked me up and down once more, smiling to himself with the look of a creeper. I inwardly cringed but kept my composure.

"We do have a position open waiting tables, if you don't mind. The theme of this restaurant is a cute twist on the idea of 'angels of death'. The uniforms are either white or black with bows and lace, as you've seen, depending on if you're a normal angel or the angel of death for the day. As long as you're good at remembering who ordered what and are congenial and polite, you should be fine."

I beamed. "Thank you very much, sir! I'll do my best!" I said in the high-pitched voice.

The uniform, as I quickly discovered, was an elaborate short black dress, with a turtle neck at the top and no sleeves. Instead, I had long black arm warmers. A large bow was tied around my middle and hung in the back just over my poofy, short skirt, which had lace underneath it. The manager quickly noticed that my chest was, as he put it, 'less endowed' than the other girls, so I got the darker angel motif instead of the cleavage showing white dress with feathery angel wings. There were also long lacey ribbons tied on either side of my head and hung lower than my actual hair, which when out of my hat, hangs to my shoulders. It's also stupidly required that all the waitresses wear these obnoxious three-inch heels that I'm still getting used to wearing.

I have been working here for a week. Guys have tried to look up my skirt as I walk away, but they leave great tips. And besides- I'm not actually a girl. Not even my coworkers have found out yet- it was going pretty great. I've been saving up my money and soon, for college, I'll be self-sufficient. Things were going great.

But that was until this asshole decided to ruin it all for me.

"What do _you_ want?!" I whisper at him in my normal voice, my anger and embarrassment seething. I clenched the plate I was holding in my hands tightly. There is no way I could run away without making a scene.

Today is one of the slow days in the restaurant, sadly; otherwise one of the other girls could have taken his table. I agreed to it before I noticed who the hell was sitting here. Fuck. Did he find out about my mom? Not even Stan knows that! Did he really come to ruin everything for me?!

He blinked and looked me up and down again. He wasn't as fat as he was when we were younger, but he was still larger than me. He hadn't worn his hat in years so his short brown hair was always showing now. His red coat is unbuttoned at the top.

Cartman smiles again, and says, "A hamburger with a large order of fries."

I blink- surprise would be an understatement of what I'm feeling.

I look at him, my jaw dropping open.

"Repeat that," I say, looking him in the face. One of the red curls unceremoniously falls in my face. Cartman's smile widens as he leans into me.

"A hamburger," he says slowly, staring deeply into my eyes, "and large fries." If I didn't know any better, it appears Cartman is flirting with me.

He doesn't know it's me.

He doesn't recognize me.

I'm safe?

"Uh-" I scramble to regain composure and tuck the curl behind my ear. "Right away sir." Bow for the customer. Right. I bow to Cartman through gritted teeth and make off toward the kitchen, my heels clacking the whole way.

My heart is beating in my ears. I quickly write down his order and pin it on the string above the kitchen. Glancing back toward the fat-ass, I notice he's still watching me with his narrowed brown eyes.

I gulp again. This is fucking unreal. Why is he here? Does he seriously not recognize me?

I mean- yeah the other girls working here think I'm a girl, and so does the manager, and so far, so do all the customers, but really, _Cartman_ can't tell? He's been such an ass to me forever- I thought he of all people would be able to recognize the face he's been tormenting.

I squat behind the welcome table, out of his sight, and sit on the ground, the ribbons on my lacey skirt dragging on the floor. What should I do? I could get him kicked out if I say he's harassing me. The bouncers would be thrilled.

I can't do anything too drastic- I need this job. FML.

Standing up, I grab a bread bowl and walk toward his table. He was sitting next to one of the giant windows with the booth seats.

"Would you like some bread, sir?" I attempt to smile but it probably looks like I'm in pain. He glances up at me from a book he was reading- Crime and Punishment. He was almost at the end. He's doing his English homework?

"Sure," he smiles again at me. My smile vanishes as I look at him. Every other time I've seen this teen smile, usually I was in pain or completely pissed off. This is weird.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I place the bowl on his table. Why am I blushing? It's probably out of being completely creeped out by an actual… human-like Cartman.

I turn on my heel and walk back toward the backroom where the other waitresses hang out. Ever since Raisins was torn down a few years ago (something about promoting underage prostitution) most of the girls that worked there now work here. There's Lexis, Mercedes, Porsche and Ferrari. Despite being complete sluts they're actually pretty decent people.

Today though, since it is a little slow, only Ferrari is still here. Cartman and some old guy who always orders an omelet are the only ones still eating.

"Hey Ferrari," I start in my high-pitched voice again. She's changing out of her white dress into her normal clothes; I guess she's leaving soon too. She's down to her bra and panties. I look elsewhere in the room. It would be awkward to look at her- I am still a guy after all. "That kid in there… does he come here a lot?"

Ferrari turns to face me, and blinks, "You mean the one with the brown hair? Every once in a while, he's been coming for a few months."

Shit, he's loyal customer. I can't very well throw him out.

"Oh- okay…" I look down, disheartened. Ferrari smiles at me and pulls on her jeans.

"Why- you interested?" she asks, pulling on a red tank top.

"Interested…" I trail off, wondering what she means, until, "Oh NO! God no!" My face turns red as I think about it. "Cartman?! Never! Someone would have to be crazy to like him-" I'm blathering and all the while, Ferrari is getting the absolute wrong idea.

She laughs, "You don't have to be embarrassed, Kylie." She folds up her uniform and places it in her locker. Walking past me toward the door, she glances back at me. "It seems like Mr. Gastborovic is leaving- that leaves you two alone. I think only Thomas is in the kitchen tonight too," she pauses and waves at me, walking out the door, "Good luck!"

…I'm not gay. Especially for Cartman.

I hear Thomas ring the bell and I know Cartman's order is ready. Attempting to compose myself I take a deep breath and push open the door.

He's still sitting there reading his book with half a piece of bread in his hand.

Grabbing the plate full of steaming fries and hamburger, I walk carefully over to his table. There's no light outside. I glance up at the clock- it was 9:30. We'll be closing in half an hour…

"Here you go, sir," I say in my high-pitched voice again as I place the plate on his table.

He looked down at it and back up at me. "Thanks," he says softly, glancing at my nametag, "Kylie."

The surprise at his thanks doesn't quite hit me right away as I smile at him. "It's my duty, sir." Curse this restaurant and making all its employees add 'sir' and 'madam' at the end of every sentence.

"I have to ask though…" he says, looking me in the eyes again. Ice overtakes my insides as I grip my plate. "Is there some reason I don't have a drink?" his voice is dripping with acid and I feel his eyes shooting daggers at me in annoyance.

Yep. That's the Cartman I know.

"Oh- I'm sorry!" I say quickly. My fear takes over anytime I see him like that and I see white. "Um, water is okay, right? Right. Be right back, sir, I'm sorry!" I say in a hurry as I spin toward the kitchen. In one swift movement as I put my left foot down, I lose my balance and my chin meets with the tiled floor.

"Ow…" is all I say as I push myself off the floor. Today fucking sucks. I glance back at Cartman, getting the feeling he's about to laugh his ass off. Instead, he's pushing himself out of the table and walking up to me.

I'm still on the floor as he puts one of his hands out toward me, a smirk on his face. He _was_ amused by my fall, but he was keeping it on the inside. I look between his hand and him as my brain slowly processes the fact he wants me to grab hold of it.

I push myself off the ground slightly and take hold of his hand, which is much larger than my own. He pulls me upward very quickly and I find my head in his chest and my body pressed against his.

He leans his face into mine, and smiles as I blush. He chuckles at my obvious embarrassment at the situation, "That's what you get for forgetting my drink."

I stutter and push him off of me, running into the kitchen and closing the door behind me.

I got Thomas to deliver the drink for me and lock up that night- I couldn't face Cartman again. I ran out through the back exit and changed outside, then went home.

That was last night. Now it's Thursday, and I'm at school, and I have no choice but to see him.

He's sitting at his desk in front of me as the rest of the class chatters away. Mr. Garrison is telling people to take their seats so we can begin our lesson.

So… he really didn't know it was me?

"Cartman."

He doesn't respond.

"Cartman," I tap on his shoulder as the class slowly quiets down. He glances over it and frowns.

"What the fuck do you want, Jew?"

I inwardly wince at his voice. He didn't sound like that when I was dressed as a girl…

He sighs before I answer. "Did you read the fucking book, Jew?"

I blink. "Crime and Punishment? Yeah."  
"Did you do the homework then?"

I know where this is going. "Yes and I'm not letting you copy it."

"But Kahllll…" he draws out my name in his annoying way. "I was busy last night, I didn't even have time to read the stupid book, let alone do the homework."

But… I saw him reading it last night… he really has no idea it's me? And he was almost done with it when I saw him…

I sigh. "Fine. You just have to promise to be super nice to me for the rest of your life."

"Oh, like that's going to happen Jew-boy."

I smile at his stupid choice of words. "Fine then, go on without your homework."

His face twists into anger. "Fuck you, kike!"

"Eric Cartman- watch your language!" Mr. Garrison says from the front of the room. I smile. It was fun making him mad.

Although, I still wonder if he knew it was me. He sure didn't act like it… although it was Cartman after all.

I think… I'll just keep it a secret. Hopefully he just won't show up again and we can forget about it.


	2. Perfect Situation

Chapter Two: "Perfect" Situations

I've been working at Angel Morte for two weeks now, and at seven dollars an hour plus tips, have earned about four hundred dollars. I'm excited. I've just lied and told my mom that I'm staying at the library and studying from 4 to 10 every night. Sadly enough, she believes me. She doesn't care as long as my grades stay up.

That's one problem out of the way at least… my other problem came to the restaurant again tonight.

I was wrong. He's here again.

It had been a week since I saw him at Angel Morte that night, it was Wednesday again. And he was here. Again.

It was 8:20ish, which meant some of the other girls were still here. There were about eight tables filled, mostly of old couples and businessmen. I already had a table, but when we were asked who wanted Cartman's, I quickly ducked my head behind my plate and left the room to attend a table full of college guys, all of which ordered beer. Cartman or eight frat boys… no contest.

I glance behind my shoulder and I see Lexis in front of Cartman's table. He was sitting in the same window booth as before. I shake my head and attempt to focus on the table at hand- full of drooling college boys catcalling me.

"Hello, my name is Kylie and I will be your server tonight, what can I get you sirs tonight?" I smile through my disgust at their faces and hold my notepad at the ready. The closest one looks me in the eyes, then trails down toward my nonexistent cleavage.

"Haven't I seen you before?" he asks, lifting a hand toward me and smiling. His words were beginning to slur. Were they drinking before they came here? I back step slightly but retain my composure.

"Erm, I don't think so, sir, unless you've been here before." I smile again.

"No, I mean at the club the other night… there was this redhead all up on me, and I swear you look just like her…" His buddies guffaw at him as he half smiles at me in a way that's supposed to be flirty.

I cringe at the thought. "No, I'm sorry, that wasn't me. So to get started, what would you like?"

"Well, it _could_ be you," the same teen starts again. He was heavily built in comparison to me, and had sandy blonde hair. He reeked of alcohol. "Tonight, me and the guys are going back there, care to join us?" he half smiles again.

"No thank you, I have a long shift tonight so even if I wanted to, I couldn't possibly-

"Come on baby," one of his friends says. "It would be fun- we'd love to see you on the dance floor." He licks his lips in the most obvious way; I'm going to be sick. They're beginning to cross the line- I look around for the closest bouncer.

The other boys laugh and egg the first boy on as he scoots his chair out from underneath him and snakes his arm around my waist. I'm too shocked to do anything at first as he pulls me into him. He had about five inches on me, putting him at about six feet. Fuck.

"Get off of me!" I say loudly, causing a nearby table and their waitress, Mercedes, to turn around.

I worm my way out of his grasp but he grabs hold of my bow and I hear the back of my dress rip. Shit. The other boys laugh as he limply holds the now not-attached bow. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tries to twist me to face him.

Before I know what I'm doing, I turn around and meet his face with my hand, slapping him loudly across the cheek. I open my eyes and see a red mark. He looks mad.

"You little bitch- think you're so tough," he starts dashing toward me with a look of anger in his eyes.

"Security!" I hear Lexis yell as I ball my hand into a fist. Suddenly there's a blur of red in front of me as someone puts himself between the college boy and me.

There's a sickening crunch as his hand makes contact with the frat boy's nose. Blood is falling from where his nose used to be, and the blur in front of me moves his hand back.

" _You chithead_!" the boy says through the blood, he looks surprised as to how there's so much blood coming from his nose. " _You boke my noche_!"

He takes a quick swing at the person who hit him and smacks him in the eye. His face turns toward me from the impact and I see his face- it's Cartman.

Cartman puts his hand over his eye and curses, looking up at the other boy. He smirks triumphantly and his friends stand up a moment too late- the bouncers are surrounding them.

"Is there a problem here?" one of them asks as he looks between Cartman and the college boy. He was taller than both of them, and seemed slightly amused that the boy was bleeding profusely from his nose. Neither one answers.

The bouncer looks back at Mercedes and she makes the hand motion to throw them out.

I grab onto the arm in front of me and look at the bouncer, trying to silently tell him that the fight was my fault, and Cartman should not be thrown out for protecting me-

Wait, Cartman protected me?

The bouncer nods once and grabs the sandy-haired teen by his arm, dragging him to the back exit as he held his nose, making no motion to grab Cartman as well. Some of the other patrons applaud for the bouncers as they drag the boy and his friends out of the restaurant. I breathe a sigh of relief and glance up at Cartman.

He's looking at me curiously and I realize I'm still holding his arm tightly. I let go and stammer, "So-sorry. Are you okay?"

He removes his hand from his eye, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Mercedes steps forward and quickly glances between us, looking worried, "Are you both okay? Kylie?"

I begin, "Yeah I'm okay, but-

"I'm _fine_ , don't fucking worry," Cartman says, rubbing his eye and looking defiantly at Mercedes. She smiles.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. You really saved Kylie back there. I don't know what we would have done without you? Ice cream on the house?"

"Whatever," he says. If I didn't know better, it looked like he was pretty pleased with himself.

Mercedes beams and takes my hand, pulling me to the back room.

"You're really okay?" she asks as the patrons stare at us. She pushes open the door and lets go of my hand.

"Yeah I'm fine… he's not going to get in trouble, is he?" I hear myself ask. Why do I care if Cartman is in trouble or not?

"No no, the manager, Mr. Yamamoto, is pretty understanding. He's not here right now, but I know he would have done the same thing I had," she smiles again and walks off toward her locker.

Lexis walks through the door and looks at me, smiling deviously.

"He saved you-" Lexis whispers at me as she retrieves his sundae from the counter near the kitchen. She smiles warmly, her lips smeared in cherry lip balm, and hands me the plate. "You take it to him. At least thank him!"  
"But- but Lexis," I start. I'm blathering again. "I can't, it's too-

"Ferrari told me you liked him, it's okay," Lexis interrupts. "I'm sorry I took his table earlier. Here's me paying you back. Mr. Yamamoto is fine with us hanging with the customers sometimes and chatting, you know."

She places the plate in my hands as I stare at her, wide-eyed and completely dumbstruck. I'm going to kill Ferrari.

"Go get him!" she whispers at me as she pushes me through the door onto the restaurant floor.

I freeze as I attempt to regain my balance. Looking through the people left in the restaurant, there was only Cartman sitting patiently at his table and a few businessmen. The other waitresses were wiping off the tables.

I inhale deeply and walk toward his table, keeping the sundae balanced on the plate, my heels clacking on the tiled floor. Finally I reach his table and place it in front of him. His eyes grow wide as he eyes the sweets; I smile to myself. Same old Cartman.

I glance at the seat across from him and quickly sit down- I'd seen the other girls do this a few times to get better tips. They'd sit with the customers and try to act interested in what they were saying. Mr. Yamamoto, the manager, encouraged it actually, but I never felt comfortable flirting with a customer. I am still a guy, it's awkward enough walking around in a frilly black dress and three inch heels, let alone bat my eyes and touch the customers.

Cartman had been eyeing me since I sat down. I glance up at him nervously, his brown eyes looking questioningly at me.

"Thank you…" I begin, looking in my lap, "for saving me."

He rolls his eyes and picks up a spoon. "Security would have gotten to you if I didn't," He says icily and digs his spoon into the vanilla ice cream and shoves it in his mouth.

I cringe at the coldness in his voice, "Well… you didn't have to. They would have gotten them if you didn't…. so thanks."

He paused and looked at me, a confused look on his face. "You're welcome… sorry your dress got fucked up," he mumbles quietly as he quickly shoved another spoonful of hot fudge in his mouth. I smile in return- it was the least I could do. After all, I'd never seen him genuinely be polite to someone and mean it.

"You're my waitress from last week, right?" he says between chewing. I glance up at him and nod again. He smiles his cruel Cartman smile and I feel my insides freeze over again- his smiles always did that to me. Bad habit from younger days. "You never did get me my drink," he says teasingly.

I blink, surprised at the playful tone in his voice. He doesn't sound like he's trying to be cruel… he's just teasing me. I smile and try to keep my blush down (it's not a good thing to be remembered by the fact I forgot his drink). "Yeah… sorry about that," I say in my high-pitched voice. "I've been having a bit of an off-time lately."

"You and I both."

There's an awkward pause as he licks his spoon clean of the whipped cream. I glance down at the table and notice he has the same book he did last week- Crime and Punishment. He said he didn't read it to 'Kyle' at school, but this copy looks like it's been read through multiple times, and even has post-it notes on the pages.

"Is that book any good?" I ask, pointing at it. Might as well play dumb.

He glances down at it nonchalantly and hands it to me. "I like it. Reading it for school though- I finished it last week, but decided to go through it again since there are a million things I could have overlooked."

He could have knocked me over with a feather after that. Cartman reading? He actually understands this book? It took me so long to understand exactly what was going on, let alone be able to comment on if I liked it or not.

"Oh," is all I can say.

He looks at me again as I open the book and flip through the pages mindlessly. He sighs and takes the book from my hands.

"Don't you want to know my name?" he asks, smiling. His eyes are narrowed- he looks mischievous. "I mean, I _did_ save you… you don't even want to know your _savior_ 's name?" He's such an asshole.

I blink- I hadn't thought about that. Had I accidently called him by his name at some point without him telling me what it was? "Oh… what's you name…" pause, " _sir?_ " I smile evilly back at him. Even if he didn't know I was Kyle, he loves making anyone obey him. I could have some fun like this.

"Why I'm so glad you asked," he says in a fake happy voice. I roll my eyes, "It's Eric Cartman."

I think about what he says. "So… can I call you Mr. Eric?" I beam at him. This is fun.

He blushes at this- he obviously isn't used to people calling him by his first name. "Uh… if you want to. Only my mom calls me Eric…" he thinks for a moment then frowns.

Mercedes (now in a short skirt and pink top) weaves through the tables near us, and stops at our booth. "Lexis is locking up tonight …" she trails off and gives me a small wink so Cartman won't see it. I feel myself blushing. She walks off and out the front door. Night is falling now- the sky is tinted with the pinks and purples of a sunset.

I face him as he eats his sundae, slower than before. The area around his eye is red and puffy. One of my obnoxious red curls falls in front of my face, "Are you sure your eye is okay?"

"I've had worse," his face darkened. Somehow that doesn't surprise me, I decide not to ask him to elaborate.

"Alright, well I'll have to go soon. My shift is almost over," I say, standing up. I get outside of the booth and face him again, bowing my head. "Thank you for saving me again…" I say quietly. It's hard for me to thank Cartman, even in this disguise.

"Wait," he says. I look up and he's already out of his booth. I meet his eyes- they look softer than usual. "Why did you avoid me when you first came in today?"

I stammer, he noticed me hiding behind the plate? "Uh, well… After the way I left last time, I didn't think you'd want to see me… I mean, I forgot your drink, and-

"So you admit the way you left last week was rude?" He narrowed his eyes. I could feel the ice forming in my chest.

"Um, well-

"Because it was. You shouldn't do that to your _loyal customers_ ," his voice was laced with venom. His hand found my wrist and clasped it tightly. "Getting up and leaving without telling me… was very _cowardly_. Sneaky, even." He twists my arm upward and his hand near his mouth. I can feel his breath on my hand. His grip tightens. I'm scared- _this_ is Cartman. My heart starts to race.

"…Mr. Eric," I begin. His eyes snap back to normal as soon as I say that and his grip softens. "Please… let go of me…"

He looks shocked at what he was doing and lets go of my wrist.

"I'm sorry…" he says quietly. I'm shocked that he apologized. "It's just… you remind me… of someone I know."

I freeze. Someone he knows?

"Excuse me, sir," I bow again and dash to the back room, pulling open the door and dashing in. I feel my heart beating in my ears.

I remind him… of Kyle. Of myself- of the Kyle he knows. Shit.

Has he figured it out?

The next day at school, I waited outside the classroom for him. He walked up to Mr. Garrison's room with only two minutes before the bell. As usual. Stan was too busy with Wendy to even notice I'd vacated the room. Clyde was showing Kenny and Butters his latest Playboy, so I thought it best to sneak out.

Cartman glances up at me. "What do you want, Jew?"

He had a black eye where the puffiness was forming the night before. "Where'd you get the black eye, fat ass?" Good job.

His face twisted from irritation, "None of your god damn business, kike. Get out of my face."

Before he could walk past me, I walked in front of him. "Why do you always want to copy off of me?"

"Because I don't have time to do the work myself and I haven't read the book," he replied coolly.

"You read the book," I started, crossing my arms. "I saw you at that restaurant a while ago- you've been reading it."

He stopped and looked me in the eyes. I genuinely surprised him. "It's about fucking _murder_ , why wouldn't I like it?"

I roll my eyes. "But you acted like you didn't read the book. Why?"

"None of your business."  
"Tell me why, Cartman."

"Out of my way you nosy Jew-rat."

I know if I were dressed as Kylie he'd be a lot more polite about this. So he genuinely doesn't know I'm Kylie, otherwise he would have admitted up front that he's been reading the book. I'm safe… for now.

I don't move from in front of Cartman and I see him getting really pissed. "Fine. Just don't expect to be able to copy off of me anymore."

"Whatever, you're not that smart anyway," he says half-heartedly, pushing past me into the room. The bell's rings echo through the hallway and I follow him inside the room.

That night, Cartman was at Angel Morte again in the same booth at eight o'clock. The other girls joked that he wanted to see me, but I knew better. He looked annoyed and sat at the table with his head in his hands.

Lexis pushed me with the menu to go see what he wanted, but he didn't look too interested.

"Sit with me," he says as he waves away the menu I'm holding. I glance back toward the welcome table where the other waitresses are motioning me to sit with him. I inwardly sigh and sit down with him.

"First off… I wanted to… apologize for lashing out at you yesterday," he didn't look at me. I nodded. It's still pretty fucking weird to see him apologize- for ANYTHING. Let alone to _me_. Well, he doesn't know it's me, but… fuck.

He continued to look upset, so I assume that feeling bad about grabbing me wasn't the problem. I can sort of forgive him for it. I mean, he's done worse to me.

"What's wrong, Mr. Eric?" I say in my high-pitched voice, which is beginning to sound off, even to me.

He looks up at me. "Drop the pleasantries, Kylie, I'm not in the mood."

I slump and begin to get irritated. Where does he come off bossing me around?

I pause and look him in the face, realizing something's wrong, "Did something happen?"

"Kinda," he says, staring at the table. I wait for him to continue. "My mom hasn't been home for a few days."

"…Are you worried?" I ask. Pretending not to know was easier than admitting I knew his mom was a raging whore and probably off with yet another guy. It was common knowledge to the town, but luckily, this restaurant was equidistant from both South Park and the next town over. Partially why I decided to apply here- less of a chance of being noticed.

"Not especially…" he looked up at me again. His eyes looked sad. "But, it sucks sometimes, ya know? That's why I come here. For people…"

Wait a second… is Cartman lonely?  
He stares into my eyes, "What's up?"

I blink- I guess I was spacing out. "You mean you're… lonely?"

He huffs and turns slightly pink, "That's a fucking gay way of saying it."

He didn't deny it. "Well…" I started, twiddling my thumbs, "I get lonely sometimes, too, I think everyone does." I mean, those two years when all I did was study, I got lonely. I didn't get to see my friends at all, I was even beginning to miss Cartman's constant teasing. Stan is too busy with Wendy now to even notice I've been out of contact for a few weeks since I started working here… "And you know, this restaurant will always be here."

He stared at me for a moment and smiled. "I hope it is." The icicles began to form in my chest again, but this time, his smile seemed different. It looked… genuine. I don't think I'd ever seen a real smile from him…

My face began to heat up as I looked at him. I tried to smile but my face felt funny. "I…" I began, looking in his brown eyes. "I have to get back to work," I said quickly, getting out of the booth and walking into the backroom. As soon as the door swung closed behind me, I put my back to the wall and took a deep breath.

What's going on? He's acting so fucking different. Why doesn't he act like that around me normally? Is this how he normally acts to girls?

No, I've seen him with Wendy. This is… different. He said I remind him of someone (most likely myself) but why would that make him act different toward me?

The only times I remind him of Kyle are the times when he gets mean and violent. Which makes sense.

Because I'm Kyle- the Jew he's hated forever. The one who he's been bickering with since we were younger. What is he going to do when he figures out Kylie is me?

This is too weird.


	3. Obliterating the Lines

Chapter Three: Obliterating the Lines

And then at school the next day (Friday), he treated me like I was the Jew he loathed his entire life. The split was very obvious- he treated Kylie like a person, and me like a doormat that was fun to step on.

I don't think I've ever seen him treat anyone the way he has treated me when I'm Kylie. It's becoming strange to see the two different sides of him. I mean- he's Cartman. He's tried to kill me more times than I can count on my fingers. But lately… it's just gotten too complicated. I have to stop thinking about it.

He saved me. Well, Kylie, from those guys. I never could think of him as someone who would do that. For anyone, let alone me.

We were in English again having group discussions on Crime and Punishment. Cartman was enjoying relentlessly annoying me _again_. God, one day I'm going to have a severe identity crisis and need a therapist because of this kid.

"Will you knock it off already?!" I yell, facing him. He was prattling on some nonsense about Jews again, I was mostly zoning out, but I was trying to work on _our_ project, so any distractions weren't really helping. Namely though, it was Kenny, Stan, Cartman _and_ my project.

"Dude, chill, let's just get this done," Stan says, narrowing his eyes and trying to read a passage in the middle of the book. "Who's Raskolnikov?"  
I roll my eyes, "The main character who kills the old pawn broker and her sister."

"Oh," Stan says. He glances over his shoulder and looks at Wendy in another group. She giggles and waves at him, I try to tune it out. How long had it been since Stan and I hung out? A few months probably. He never tried to initiate anything after my home situation got pretty bad- mostly because about the same time, he and Wendy got back together. He wasn't abandoning me

"I really don't want to fucking do this," Kenny says from next to us. We moved all our desks together to work. Kenny didn't really ditch me either, he'd been dying pretty frequently lately, so I can't really blame him if his thoughts were elsewhere. I hadn't been ditched by my friends.

"Well, we have to," I say, glancing over at Kenny in annoyance. He sighs and pushes some strands of blonde hair behind his ears.

Cartman sighs loudly. "Well if the _Jew_ says we have to do it, then by all means guys, we have to. After all, he is the ruler of all things-

"Just shut the fuck up, Cartman, I'm really not in the mood," because of _you_ , you dumb fuck. "And remember, I said you can't copy off of me anymore. You actually read the book this time, right? You can contribute to our group."

I smile wide with the full intention of pissing him off. Stan says, "Dude, cut it out, both of you. I just want to get this done."

"So you can get back to your _girlfriend_?" I snap without meaning to. Stan looks surprised, then smiles.

"Yes, actually," he obviously didn't hear the bitterness in my voice. I inwardly wretch at his goofy smile from thinking about Wendy. Idiot. I really have lost my best friend.

Little did I notice, Cartman had been staring at me since I smiled at him. I narrow my eyes, "What do you want, fat-ass?"

He blinked and narrowed his eyes in return. In one quick movement, he grabbed my green trapper hat off my head and pulled, before I could stop him. My red curls fell down to my shoulders and in my face as I looked at him, shocked. He looked equally shocked.

"K-kylie?" he asks. I feel my cheeks turn red.

Fuck.

He knows.

His face has no expression for a moment, then he grabs my wrist and pulls me upward as he stands up. "Bathroom," he murmurs; he turns toward the door and yanks me behind him.

Before Stan or Kenny even speaks, I'm out the door with Cartman, with barely a fight.

I regain my senses three steps before the men's room door. "Let go of me!" I pull my arm back and more red hair falls in my face. Cartman is still holding my hat.

"You…" he begins, looking at me. The ice forms in my chest again- he looks really mad. "You sneaky, little, Jew-rat." He grabs me by both my arms and shoves me against the wall. Pain radiates from my back- I wince but he doesn't let up. He lowers his face into mine and whispers dangerously, "Were you pretending to be a girl to get me to admit things that you could use against me? Seeing if you could find my _weakness_?"

I stammer- he was so wrong! I wouldn't go that far for fucking _Cartman_ , "No you _asshole_ ," I didn't like being at this close proximity with him. "I needed the job!"

"And there weren't any jobs that didn't require you to wear a skirt _exactly_ where I hang out at least twice a week!?"  
"Hey- fuck off! How was I supposed to know you went there?!"

"WHY DOES THAT MATTER?!" He slams me into the lockers behind me. It hurt so much, I began to see stars. Being much lighter than Cartman didn't help unless I was able to run away. He hissed at me, "You fucking _deceived_ me Jew! Not only me, but the restaurant! I doubt you'd be able to keep that job if they figured out you were male!"

I blink through the pain and look him in the eyes. He's right- if they find out, I'll get fired in a heartbeat. It's all over. I'll have to find a new job. What if they contact my parents? I'm still underage.

I slump in Cartman's hands and look down. He chuckles and I meet his eyes. He's smirking.

"Well… I won't tell anyone," I literally feel my hopes being lifted inside of me. "Solely because making a Jew do whatever I say puts you in your rightful place. I rather enjoy watching you struggle in heels and lacey things." I freeze.

"And if you don't treat me right- I'll out you not only to the manager and your parents, but to the whole town. Understand?" he smiles at me with his Cheshire Cat-like grin and I know my insides are permanently frozen over.

As soon as I thought everything would work out, it all goes to shit yet again. Of course. I scowl at him, unable to do anything, for fear of the consequences.

Fuck you Cartman.

The girls noticed there was something wrong at work that night. I have to admit- I was pretty out of it, with everything going on. I ended up mixing up two different orders and giving a diabetic regular soda instead of diet. There were a lot of customers today too, which wasn't helping the fact I was so zoned out. Most of the other girls took my tables after I messed up a few times, so at this second, I only had two, both of which were just seated.

"Are you okay, Kylie?" Mercedes asked me as she put on her white lacey dress. I was hiding in the backroom when she came in for her shift. I look away from her.

"Yeah… I'm fine," I try to smile but it even looks half-assed. She looks at me worriedly after fastening the back clips and shaking out her blonde hair.

"You know you can talk to us about anything, right?" she blinks her large blue eyes at me.

Not everything- trust me.

I attempt to smile at her in thanks anyway. "Yeah… thanks, Mercedes. This is just something I have to deal with on my own."

She smiles at me warmly and rubs my arm. "Okay sweetie, just feel better."

At that moment, Porsche opens the backroom door and walks toward us, humming and smiling.

"What's up?" Mercedes asks, noticing her happy mood.

"Oh nothing…" she smiles mischievously at me, "Something just showed up that will fix Kylie's bad mood."

My heart begins to sink. What?

Mercedes too catches on to what Porsche is saying, "I'll take the last of your tables, Kylie, it's fine. Go have fun!"

"He requested you- that means he's interested!"

"Good for you Kylie!"

And before I can say a word in edgewise, they practically push me out of the room and (because of my klutziness in three-inch-high shoes) onto the tiled floor. Fucking heels.

"Ouch…" I curse. I look around the dining area- some of the nearby tables were stifling giggles at the clumsy redhead on the floor. It was only five o'clock- Cartman couldn't have been here already.

I stand up and brush off my skirt. After the incident with the college boys two days before, my bow had finally been sewed back on by Mr. Yamamoto. I adjusted my clothes and finally looked toward Cartman's normal seat. He was there, watching me with an evil smile on his face.

I literally deadpan, unsure of what I'm supposed to do. My feet slowly carry me toward his table as I scowl.

"What do you want?" I ask with as much hate as I can muster in a lower voice. His grin only seems to get wider.

"Why, _Kylie_ , I didn't expect to see you here! What a pleasant surpri-ise!" he draws out the last word. His fake happy voice again. How I loathe it. I sigh, but he leans into me and lowers his voice, "What better day to take advantage of your _services_ if not today?"

I can't help but blush at the obvious sexual innuendo in his words, and I know he meant for it to sound like that. "I hate you so much," I say in return, glaring at him through my not-so-threatening red curls and lacey bows. His smile only seems to get bigger.

"Aren't you going to offer me the specials, _Kylie_?"

I grit my teeth and close my eyes, trying to forget it was Cartman I had to serve. I pull my notepad out of my front pocket and ready my pen to write down what he wants. "We have the mac and cheese, broccoli soup-

"I want ice cream," Cartman says suddenly. My eyes shoot open as I frown.

"It's barely five o'clock," I begin, my obvious contempt at being interrupted showing.

"So? Go get me some fucking ice cream, Jew," he pauses and smiles again. "Unless you want me to tell all these good customers exactly what you have hiding under that mini skirt?"

I growl, unable to do anything, and stomp off toward the kitchen. He wants fucking ice cream? I'll give it to him. I walk over to the counter in front of the kitchen and wave at our chef, Thomas, to get his attention. He looks up and smiles at me.

"I just got an order in for one scoop of every type of ice cream we have, with every topping," I say. Making Cartman sick would be quite rewarding.

Thomas blinks, "That's at least twenty one flavors," he twitches slightly. When I started the job, I recognized him as the boy with Tourette's I met many years ago- when Cartman pretended to have Tourette's. He was the one who helped me (Kyle) get all the perverts to walk into the filming of Dateline and interrupt Chris Hanson. He seemed to be getting better, but he still cursed sometimes without meaning to, hence why the manager decided to put him in the kitchen instead of seating people.

"Yeah- this guy is crazy," I lean in slightly and smile at Thomas, "I don't think he'd be happy with anything else."

Thomas nodded and cursed in one quick motion, and minutes later, a large platter with twenty one scoops (one of every flavor) topped with whipped cream, fudge, bananas, cherries, almonds, and every other topping imaginable came out of the kitchen for me. Cartman looked confused when I was carrying it toward his table, but he seemed to put two and two together quickly. He glowered at me.

"Sneaky Jew," he says as I put the plate on his table. I smile at his obvious annoyance.

"Bon appétit," I say in the most fake and high pitched voice I can muster, and turn around, ready to head back toward the kitchen for the next table over's order.

"Wait, Kylie, I have a great idea," Cartman says from behind me in his 'oh I'm so sweet and innocent voice'. I turn around and meet his eyes, slightly afraid of the sheer glee I can make out on his face. " _You_ can feed it to me."

"Excuse me?" I ask, sure I misheard him.

"You heard me, Kylie," there was an obvious glint in his eyes. "Obviously, you didn't read the rules of the restaurant before applying.

I try to think about what Cartman means- rules?

He points behind me at the backroom door. On the right side is the counter in the hole in the wall, which connects the restaurant with the kitchen, on the left side, was an elaborate black paper with pink writing on it entitled "What you can and can't do in Angel Morte!"

1) Our waitresses can chat with you if you please, as long as the day isn't too busy. Just ask us to sit down and we will comply!

2) If you have a favorite waitress, you can request them. You can also request them in one of our many costumes. Along with Guardian Angel and Death Angel, we also have Playboy Bunny outfits, various oriental garbs and many more! (If you call ahead, we can preorder it for you!)

3) You can play games with our waitresses! Card games, 20 questions, anything is acceptable!

4) If you wish for help with eating your food, our waitresses can assist you!

5) NO TOUCHING THE WAITRESSES UNLESS SHE PERMITS IT. We have the authority to kick you off the premises if you try anything illegal.

6) No smoking. Please and thank you!

I stare at the sign, my mouth wide open. I'd worked here for two weeks and hadn't noticed the giant sign board next to my retreat?

What kind of sick, twisted person was Mr. Yamamoto for opening this kind of restaurant?! It's just as bad (if not worse) than Raisins! It's, like, a step above a _brothel_!

Well, that would explain my pay.

I hear someone clear their throat behind me and slowly, I turn my head slowly around. He was smiling wide.

"So… _Kylie_ …" he accentuates my fake name and picks up the spoon. "You were saying."  
I growl again and ball my hands into fists from habit, but quickly cool down and sit across from him. I can't believe for a moment I ever thought he was human. I snatch the spoon from his hand and dig it into the platter of ice cream. I hold the spoon like I'm about to gag him with it, but he stops smiling and narrows his eyes.

His words from earlier ring in my head.

 _"And if you don't treat me right- I'll out you not only to the manager and your parents, but to the whole town. Understand?"_ I can't try anything funny.

I sigh loudly and place a hand under my chin as I reach my hand toward his mouth, spoon at the ready. He smiles again and opens his mouth.

I slowly place the spoon full of ice cream in his mouth and he closes his lip around the end of it. I blush- but more out of anger than anything. This is fucking humiliating. I grit my teeth as I pull it from his mouth- he's smiling.

I try to retain my composure- I don't want him knowing how disgusting he's making me feel, if he knew that, then he would win. I can't give him the satisfaction. I attempt to place the spoon in the platter again, but he reaches out and grabs my hand, causing me to drop it on the table with a loud _klank_.

His eyes glinted evilly as he looked at me. "This time, don't use the spoon." I blink, his grip on my wrist never letting up.

"What do you mean…?" I ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer. He sighs exasperatedly and takes my hand in his hand, his other still holding my wrist. He separates the fingers and pulls them downward. I brush the ice cream with my index finger.

No. No, no, no, no, _no_.

"You can't be serious," I say, hoping I'm wrong. He wants to be fed with my _fingers_? "You wouldn't…"

"I would, Kahl," he says, letting go of my hand and opening his mouth.

I close my eyes for a moment to calm myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. I open my eyes and dip my finger further into the ice cream.

You need this job. You need the money. You want to escape your overbearing family? Just do this. It's only a second. Get over yourself. No one knows it's you. Only Cartman.

And if you want him to keep it that way, you'll do what he says.

I reach out toward him with my hand and quickly place my index finger in his mouth. He closes his mouth around it, his lips pressing quickly against my skin and his tongue against the end. I blush ferociously and automatically pull my hand back, keeping down a squeal as my heart beat speeds up. He smiles at me, my insides grow cold.

He reaches out his hands toward mine, and pulls my right hand back toward his mouth.

"I'm still hungry, _Jew_ ," he says darkly, his breath hitting the back of my hand. I can't think straight- this is all too fucking ridiculous. He sticks his tongue out his mouth and slowly licks the back of my hand- tasting it. "And the taste of your complete surrender to me is so _sweet_."

I see white. Senses overload. I pull my hand back and practically fall out of the booth in an attempt to get away. I try to balance on my heels again- I'm getting looks from nearby patrons and waitresses. I hold my hand close to myself, like it was wounded instead of caressed, and stutter, "Ex- excuse me, s-s-sir."

I dash off into the backroom without even looking back. Soon, my back is against the wall and my butt is on the floor. I hold myself in the fetal position and bury my head in my arms.

That… was too much. There are lines. Lines I am willing to cross, lines I am not. That was a pretty fucking thick line! I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE THAT ASSHOLE!

I inwardly voice my hatred until I hear a voice in front of me, "Kylie?" I look up- it is Lexis. "That boy… Eric? He asked me to give this to you." She holds out a folded napkin with the name 'Kylie' scribbled on it. I blink and reach out, taking it from her, and unfold it. Two one-hundred dollar bills fall out and onto my lap. I blink and pick them up- they appear authentic. Lexis ooh's and aw's at the money as I glance back at the napkin, hoping for some explanation. There was an untidy message scribbled on it.

 _-Kylie,_

 _Today was so much fun! I look forward to spending much more time with you like we did today- it truly is the highlight of my week!_

 _Although the end of the ice cream was a bit of a fiasco, maybe next time you won't have too much difficulty following direct orders. Hopefully this tip will make up for any misunderstandings._

 _PS: Remember that leprechaun we were talking about a while ago? Well, this is so much more fun!_

 _Be seeing you, Mr. Eric-_

I reread the letter and hold my stomach. Lexis is still here watching my reaction, except she's smiling. "He so totally likes you, Kylie! You should be thrilled!" She notices my green-looking appearance. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

I just wince from the pain radiating from my stomach. I'm going to be sick.

God damn you, Cartman.


End file.
